


One Long Descent

by collatorsden_archivist, Fionnabair



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Dark, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-22
Updated: 2008-06-22
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionnabair/pseuds/Fionnabair
Summary: Phyllis goes for a test drive.Part of theHookerverse.





	One Long Descent

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Fionnabair demanded [Phyllis/Sam](http://fiandyfic.livejournal.com/11108.html#cutid4) in the Hookerverse, so Andromeda wrote it. And then Fi thought it had legs and fed the little bunny and was _completely_ surprised when it turned into a monster. Andy, of course, is perfectly innocent in all this and wasn’t remotely feeding the beast growth steroids. Yeah, right. Title comes from a quote from Mandy Rice-Davies.

Phyllis had been at this for a long time. Well before she was a Desk Sergeant, back when her job was mostly clerical work and the occasional domestic violence case. And the prostitutes, of course. It had been an easy role to slip into, working the late shift when they came in, beaten, scared, in need of a cup of tea and a comforting word. Making sure her male colleagues showed some respect, or at least laid off a bit. As time had gone on, she learned more than anyone had a right to about the business. The girls seemed to appreciate a cuppa and a friendly ear and word had got round. It had almost seemed logical, the next step, and she hadn’t found it too hard when she took it. Not with such a good team helping her. 

 

 

She’d never forced a girl onto the game, and she was proud of that. Got plenty of them out of it, one way or another, and if she took a cut along the way, well, she kept them safe. Boys, now that was a different matter and a different job and she really didn’t specialise in those. Just the one, with the cocky walk, and the self-righteous air, who hated and feared her in equal measure and didn’t dare look in her eyes on the rare occasions they met, for fear of earning retribution. 

 

 

Phyllis didn’t much like fear. It made people stupid. Respect, that was a different matter. You weren’t anyone without respect. She respected her girls and they respected her and nearly everything went along smoothly. For those moments where respect went away, there was always Gene, who was effective and efficient at restoring it. 

 

 

Tyler didn’t show respect. He was obedient and docile and hid his fear well, but she could always sense the underlying disgust he had for her and her girls. Still, even now, convinced that he was better than them. 

 

 

Phyllis bided her time. Sooner or later, he was going to learn another lesson – this time at her hands directly.

*****

It started on Sunday night. Sukey was home, the majority of her business these days being travelling salesmen and weekly commuters, while Sam had a rare free night. Michelle, the third girl in the building, was off at the Flamingo.

 

 

Sam had cooked dinner for both of them. Sukey freely admitted her culinary skills didn’t go further than opening cans, but she was duly appreciative of Sam’s efforts. They had a strange relationship; the confident prostitute who’d moved up off the streets and the ex-policeman who rarely admitted to himself what he was. Sam knew Sukey was high in Gene and Phyllis’s esteem and suspected she reported on him to them; Sukey still didn’t fully like the man who’d managed to inject so much scorn into the word “prostitute” when he first met her. 

 

 

It was a cautious relationship on both sides, but it worked. Even when Sukey knocked on the door of Sam’s flat to give him his orders, having just received a call on the payphone in the hall with the latest assignments. Gene was brusque, Jack Evans was business-like, but Sukey was sympathetic and frequently coarse. They’d even worked together and Sam, who never thought he’d laugh for real on a job, had to choke back a fit of the giggles when Sukey caught his eye as they both bent over a certain rock star’s cock. Trust wasn’t part of the equation, but respect – however slow and grudging – was. 

 

 

So when Sukey looked up from the table and cocked her head, Sam paid attention. 

 

 

“Something’s going on downstairs,” she said.

 

 

“Something’s always going on downstairs,” Sam commented. “Someone’s in those rooms practically every hour at the weekend.”

 

 

“It’s not right,” she said urgently. “Something sounds really wrong. I’m going to check.”

 

 

He followed her reluctantly out to the landing, but had to agree that something sounded very wrong indeed downstairs, where the rooms that some of the street girls used for their customers were. Neither of them were strangers to violence, both faked and real, and this sounded like the real thing. A scream from downstairs decided them. 

 

 

The door of the room was partly open and inside they could see a girl crying. Sam recognised her vaguely as Sukey strode into the room. 

 

 

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

 

 

“Shut up, you fucking whore, you’ll get yours soon enough,” growled the man, who had the girl by her hair, holding a blade up against her cheek.

 

 

“Sandra?” asked Sukey just as Sandra screamed, “No, Billy, I won’t. Sukey, help me!”

 

 

Sam barrelled past Sukey, pushing her to one side as he went for Billy’s knife hand, pulling him off Sandra and away. Sam wasn’t the biggest man in Manchester by any gauge, but he was strong and fast, and the knife went flying as the man dropped Sandra to face his attacker, backhanding Sam across the face. Sam lashed out with his foot and connected with his shin as Sandra scrambled away, half-pulled over to one side by Sukey. 

 

 

The two men were blocking the girls’ escape route, Billy stumbling as he flailed at Sam. Clearly he wasn’t expecting anyone to fight back. Nonetheless, he managed to land a few hard blows on Sam’s shoulders as Sam put his head down and shoved him against the wall, getting the space he needed return the blows. 

 

 

It ended as suddenly as it had begun, Billy managing to shove Sam out of the way, so that he could leg it through the door. As Sam reeled back, he heard the front door slam. 

 

 

He looked across the room. Sukey was kneeling beside Sandra, who was clinging to her and crying incoherently. 

 

 

“Sandra, Sandra, it’s okay,” she soothed. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back.” She looked up at Sam. “Come here, Sam, and tell her it’s okay. I need to make a phone call.”

 

 

Sandra gripped Sukey’s arm urgently. “Don’t call them, they’ll…”

 

 

“Don’t be daft, Sandra,” said Sukey gently. “They won’t think it’s your fault. I’ll tell them what happened. Billy Wakefield, wasn’t it? I didn’t know he was back in town. Mr Hunt will take care of him.”

 

 

She disentangled herself from Sandra, and headed out to the payphone. On the floor, Sandra curled up and started sobbing helplessly. Sam knelt down beside her. 

 

 

“I’ve… I’ve had problems before,” she managed to say. “The Man…”

 

 

Sam finally remembered where he’d seen her before – the silent, bruised prostitute who had been accused of petty theft back when he was still in CID. 

 

 

“I know,” was all he could say as he wrapped his arms around her and realised what Sukey’s phone call could mean for both of them. He wondered what the penalty would be for assaulting a customer.

 

 

They didn’t have long to wait. Sukey returned, looked at the pair of them, and promptly went off to make tea for everyone. They’d just persuaded Sandra off the floor to sit on the bed and drink some of the strong, sweet brew when the door opened again and Gene and Phyllis walked in, both looking disgusted. 

 

 

Sukey pulled them to one side and had an urgent conversation with them, of which Sam could only hear a few words. Sandra tried to avoid looking over at them, but winced at every explosion that came from Gene. 

 

 

“Who’s Billy Wakefield?” murmured Sam, as much to distract himself as her.

 

 

“My old pimp. He got sent to prison for assault. Must be out now.”

 

 

She looked at Sam, tears running down her face. “Phyllis has been good to me, given me a chance, another chance. I don’t want her to think that I’d go back to him.”

 

 

_How can you say she’s been good to you when you’re terrified of her?_ he wanted to scream, but bit it back as Phyllis’s voice cut in. Gene and Sukey were still talking in the corner but she’d moved over to them, unnoticed. 

 

 

“You’re not stupid, Sandra, I know that. And you’d have to be a complete lunatic to want to go back to him. I assume he forced his way in?”

 

 

Sandra nodded. “I’d just seen a customer out, and he pushed me back inside. Said he was back in town and if I knew what was good for him, I’d go back to him and tell him who was working for you. And he started laying into me, hitting me, telling me he’d cut me, burn me, scar me, if I didn’t…” She broke down into sobs again, burying her face in her hands.

 

 

Phyllis looked at Sam, even as she sat down on the other side of Sandra and put an arm around her. 

 

 

“Sukey and I were upstairs when she heard something,” Sam offered. “We came downstairs and chased him off.”

 

 

Phyllis nodded. “He’s not a small man, is Billy Wakefield. Did you get hurt?”

 

 

Sam shook his head, ignoring the trickle of blood from a cut lip. Phyllis said nothing, her lips thinning. 

 

 

On the other side of the room, Gene and Sukey had finished their talk, and Gene came back over. 

 

 

“Wakefield up to his old tricks again?” he asked Phyllis. “I’ll sort him.”

 

 

Without looking at either Sandra or Sam, he headed out the room, pulling on his driving gloves. 

 

 

Phyllis turned to Sukey. “Sukey, I need to go out. It’s not safe out there for some of the girls – he knows the ones Sandra knows. I need to go and tell them to go home for the night. Can you take care of Sandra and keep a listen out for the phone?”

 

 

“No worries, Phyllis,” said Sukey. “Sandra, why don’t you come upstairs to my flat? It’s closer for the phone and we can lock the door if you’re scared.”

 

 

Phyllis stood up and sighed. She moved towards the door, then paused, hesitating. “Come on, Tyler,” she snapped, suddenly decisive. “I need a driver and you’re the nearest thing I’ve got to one.”

 

 

Confused, Sam followed her out. 

 

 

“I need to warn some of the girls,” she said. “And it’ll be safer if I’m not on my own. Just drive the car where I tell you.”

 

 

Sam bit back the rejoinder that, even now, sprang to his mind, and silently got into the driver’s seat of the Rover. 

 

 

He spent the next hour driving around Manchester, visiting some of the most notorious red light spots and some places that he never thought had working girls hanging around. Sometimes Phyllis got out of the car and knocked on a door, other times she just wound down the window and spoke to a girl on the street. 

 

 

“Only two jobs left,” she muttered at about 2am. “And here’s one of them.”

 

 

At Phyllis’s signal, the car pulled in beside three girls who were talking animatedly. 

 

 

“Evening, girls. Everything all right?”

 

 

One of them turned. 

 

 

“Oh, Phyllis. Mr Hunt passed about twenty minutes ago and told us to go home. Tina and I were just waiting for Julie because she’d picked someone up.”

 

 

Phyllis nodded. 

 

 

“Well, now Julie’s here, hop in. We’ll drive you back. It’s not safe tonight.”

 

 

The three got in the back, darting curious looks at Sam. 

 

 

“How’s the baby, Tina?” asked Phyllis, ignoring their obvious curiosity about her driver. 

 

 

Tina beamed. “He’s fine. He’s not a baby anymore. Running around like mad. He’s with my auntie tonight.”

 

 

“I’ve got some clothes for him. I’ll drop them by next week.”

 

 

“Thanks, Phyllis. He’s growing so fast, his clothes only seem to last a month.”

 

 

“Where’s Mary?”

 

 

“Had to go back home,” said Julie. “Her mum’s sick. She told Jack two days ago that she’d be away for a week.”

 

 

“Oh yes, Jack told me yesterday. I’d forgotten. Nothing serious, I hope?”

 

 

The three girls all shook their heads as the car pulled up outside a block of flats in Benchill. 

 

 

“Anyway, girls, stay at home for the rest of the night. We’ll have the problem sorted out by the morning. Don’t do anything stupid, it’s not worth it.”

 

 

There was affection in Phyllis’s voice, but Sam only heard the warning. 

 

 

 

The last stop of the evening was the Flamingo, after closing time, where Phyllis re-emerged with Jack Evans, two dancers and Michelle, who had the third flat in Sam’s building. 

 

 

“I’ll see the girls home, Phyllis,” said Jack. “Thanks for letting me know. We haven’t had any trouble here tonight, but much safer to be warned just in case.”

 

 

Phyllis nodded and Sam silently drove back home, Michelle dozing in the back seat. 

 

 

They got back quickly in the empty streets and a yawning Michelle went off to her flat immediately. The door of the other flat opened and Sukey stuck her head out. 

 

 

“Everything okay, Sukey?” asked Phyllis. 

 

 

Sukey nodded. “Mr Hunt called earlier and said it’s all sorted. I said I’d have Sandra stay here tonight. She’s fine, but I think she wants company and she’s still a bit scared. I’m not working until tomorrow lunchtime anyway.”

 

 

“Good girl,” said Phyllis. “I’ll be upstairs if you want me. Too late to head home now.”

 

 

She turned to Sam. “Well, you’ve got a guest for tonight.”

 

 

Sam shrugged and followed Phyllis up the stairs to the top floor. 

 

 

Feeling uncomfortable, Sam showed Phyllis into the bedroom, not sure what the correct etiquette was for inviting your pimp into your flat to stay the night and therefore falling back onto more formal practice.

 

 

“The bathroom is just across the hall. Let me know if you want anything else.” He opened the wardrobe door, getting some spare blankets out, and then started towards the bedroom door. 

 

 

Phyllis grabbed at him, her fingers curling round his thin wrist and pulling him up short. “And where are you going, Tyler?”

 

 

He shrugged, trying to get away from her grasp without offending. “I thought I’d sleep on the sofa.”

 

 

Phyllis gave him a hard look. “Not likely, Tyler. You’re in with me.” 

 

 

Sam gave a protesting snort, but looking at Phyllis he decided not to make any sort of objection.

 

 

“This is part business, part pleasure, part stress relief. After all, everyone else has had a piece of you, and a boss has to have her perks. Plus, it’s been a hard night. Surely we should look to comfort where we can?”

 

 

“I… I don’t usually with women,” Sam protested. 

 

 

“Tyler,” she growled. “I own you. If I say ‘get on your knees’, you’ll get on your knees. If I say ‘lie back and think of England’, you’ll bloody well think of that green and pleasant land. Right now I’m saying ‘fuck me’ and that’s exactly what you’ll do. Don’t tell me you don’t sleep with girls – I know you’ve got it up for Sukey.”

 

 

He looked at Phyllis in shock and she stared straight back at him, confident, brassy, dominating. They stood there for a moment and a glint in her eyes decided him. 

 

 

In that moment, Sam suddenly understood Sukey. The way she’d sometimes come to him, urge him to be selfish as they sweated together on his bed, the way she’d stay awake with him dozing in her arms or just sleep in his bed on the bad nights, a non-judgemental comfort beside him. She’d got as much comfort from the process as he had, he realised. She did what she did for herself, not for him, not for anyone else. 

 

 

Without breaking the stare, he twisted the arm Phyllis was holding, pulling the inside of her wrist up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to it. He _could_ do this, he _could_ satisfy her, because right now all that mattered was himself. And he didn’t want to think about the beating he’d get for failing to satisfy the boss. 

 

 

Phyllis slowly let go of his wrist and he began pushing her sleeve upwards, kissing all the way. She exhaled gently as he continued kissing up to the crook of her elbow, while reaching forward to unbutton her cardigan. She bit back a small moan as he abandoned her arm and leaned into her neck, kissing and sucking, pushing the cardigan back off her shoulders so that it fell unnoticed to the floor. Her blouse and skirt followed, and he placed his hands on her waist, steering her to sit back on the bed while he dropped to his knees and pulled off her shoes, and reached up to unfasten her stockings. She was leaning forward, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, pulling at them. 

 

 

 

He gently pushed her back to lie on the bed, and she propped herself up on her elbows, watching lasciviously as he quickly stripped off his own clothes and joined her, his hand reaching for her bra-clad breast, his face following. 

 

 

He slowly peeled the straps down, pulling her into his arms as he kissed her neck once more, unfastening her bra, and pulling it off. Her knickers followed shortly afterwards, dragged down her legs as he trailed his mouth ahead of them. He pushed her legs slightly apart and slid a hand in, moving his head to follow.

 

 

She grabbed his arm, making him stop. “No,” she ordered. “I didn’t say ‘make me come’, I said ‘fuck me’.” 

 

 

She used her other hand to pull his hair, forcing him to look at her. “I’m no oil painting, Tyler, I’m not a fool. But it could be worse. It could be the Guv, pinning you down, forcing himself into you, making you scream.”

 

 

His cock twitched, involuntarily, against her thigh at her words and her eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. 

 

 

“If you’re a good boy, and do as you’re told, I won’t tell him,” she murmured. “You’ve got your orders, now obey them.”

 

 

She released him, and he obediently lifted his head, resuming his kisses over her body, fondling her with one hand, sliding it between her legs, teasing and provoking her until she began pushing down on his fingers, grunting in pleasure. Surreptitiously, he tugged at his half-erect cock with his other hand, shutting his eyes and burying his face in her neck, not acknowledging what he was thinking to get hard enough. Her hand came down and joined his, expertly pulling and massaging, until he too gasped. 

 

 

He lifted his face up and looked her in the eyes and she nodded.

 

 

He reached over to the bedside drawer for the condoms he used whenever he could and quickly rolled one on. Phyllis’s eyes crinkled in amusement. 

 

 

“You’re not going to knock me up, Tyler,” she commented. “And I won’t give you the clap.”

 

 

He froze, but she pulled him over onto her body, spreading her legs further, pushing up. 

 

 

“Still, nice to think you’re concerned about what you might give me,” she murmured as she reached for his cock, positioning it at her entrance, pulling him down. He hissed as he slid inside, and she groaned. Slowly he began thrusting, again shutting his eyes and imagining something else, propped up on his elbows, one hand gripping her shoulder. Phyllis grunted underneath him and all he could think of was how Gene would grunt when Sam sucked him off after a beating. The thought made him speed up a bit, and Phyllis reached up and held onto his shoulders, pulling him in closer. 

 

 

Still mindful of the job in hand, Sam released her shoulder and snaked his hand between their joined bodies, finding that tight bundle of nerves between the now-slick folds of flesh and rubbed lightly. Phyllis arched up, their hips smacking together painfully, and wordlessly shuddered, her eyes half-closed, her lips tightly shut.

 

 

She sighed in contentment, and finally Sam allowed himself to come, his thoughts of Gene giving an edge to the orgasm, which was one part flattery to two parts necessity.

 

 

After a long moment, Sam rolled over, still breathing heavily. Phyllis sat up and, reaching down for her handbag, quickly found her fags and lit one. She took a deep drag and then looked over at Sam, his body posture rigid with fear and a touch of disgust.

 

 

“You know,” she said conversationally. “I’ve never had chance to inspect my employees’ work that thoroughly before.”

 

 

She leant over, capturing Sam’s face between her fingers, nails biting slightly into the flesh, and claimed a deep kiss before leaning back and looking at him thoughtfully.

 

 

“I think I’ve been undercharging for you, Tyler.”

*****

Sam didn’t look at her the next morning when she got up and quietly dressed. Her clean uniform was at the station and she could shower and change there. She looked over at the figure huddled on the bed and smiled to herself, a bitter little curve of the lips.

 

 

“I’ve left the car keys,” she said. “Drive Sandra home when she’s ready to go and leave the keys with her. I’ll collect the car after work.”

 

 

The morning had that clear, crisp air that would shortly be destroyed by traffic and people as she left the building. Outside, a bronze Cortina was waiting and she got in the passenger seat. 

 

 

“Thought you’d stay over,” Gene said. “Bet you didn’t have any breakfast either. I got you a bacon butty.”

 

 

He handed over the sandwich and pulled the car out into the early morning traffic as she thankfully bit into it. 

 

 

“Better eat up, Phyllis love,” he said. “Busy day today. Found a body in the Canal, one Billy Wakefield, nasty business. Must do a proper investigation. Ray’s working on it at the moment. Don’t want any trouble on our patch, do we, love?”

 

 

“I’m sure there won’t be. Not now,” she answered serenely as they drove on towards the police station.


End file.
